Lost and Found
by crazywriter10
Summary: Sequel to Hide and Seek "Major Evan Lorne of the United States Air Force sat bolt upright in bed with a scream, drenched in sweat with half a mind to grope for the gun on his nightstand." Warnings: Issues of non-con, pre-slash, and slash.


**Author's Notes: **There's a few of them this time around. First, this is a sequel to my other fic, "Hide and Seek" which can also be found here on . There are mentions of **non-con** in here as well as **pre-slash and slash. If you like neither of those things, I highly suggest you click your back button. **That being said, I'll mention I own nothing, this has not been seen by a Beta, and there may possibly be a third part coming when I can get around to it. Thank you all for reading, and reviewing, if it behooves you.

_

* * *

I once was lost/But now, I am found. Was blind/But now I see._

-Amazing Grace

_"Lorne," Sheppard called softly, drawing the word out into more than one syllable. "I know you're around here somewhere."_ It was Sheppard's dead, hollow voice that filled his mind and his heart quickened. Sheppard was hunting him, gunning for him. _"You know, if you come out now we can end this. I'm not going to tell you what I'm going to do to you, but I am telling you that you can end this."_ He knew it was a trap just as sure as he'd known then but it didn't make it any easier to disobey the coaxing voice. Sheppard was so damn compelling…and hadn't Lorne had the power to end this all along? Hadn't he been the one, if he'd just surrendered to Sheppard in the beginning couldn't have he avoided the whole damn thing? Couldn't he have made it better, saved them both the hassle?

Before he even knew it he was right back in the river bed, ankle stuck between the rocks, Sheppard bearing down on him, the dead look in his dark eyes staring at him. _"Lorne," Sheppard said, baring his teeth, "you thought you could run from me?"_ Another blink of an eye and Sheppard was sitting on top of him, erection pressed into the patch of skin below his belly button. Only this time his fight or flight instinct didn't kick in and he lay there, stupid in shock, and watched Sheppard bend closer, licking the side of his neck. He was staring at the sky above, the patch of blue that had appeared, so perfect in the all the gray. He barely noticed when Sheppard drew his hunting knife from its sheath, raising it above his head. The blade looked so pretty against the blue....Sheppard swung it down, heading for his captive's ribs…

Major Evan Lorne of the United States Air Force sat bolt upright in bed with a scream, drenched in sweat with half a mind to grope for the gun on his nightstand. He thought the lights on, not caring that he nearly temporarily blinded himself when the darkness was suddenly illuminated. Once he made sure that he was the only one in his room, he relaxed marginally, pulling up his knees and resting his forehead on them.

_This has to stop,_ he thought to himself. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only 0240. He rubbed a hand across his face but couldn't seem to banish the shakes that the nightmare had given him. It was the fourth night in a row that he'd been woken up by the demons in the back of his mind, and it had been two weeks since he'd gotten back from the planet with the drug that had made Sheppard go super-soldier, hell-bent on killing him. Who was Lorne kidding, thinking he could just get over this like any other thing? Even more confusing were the feelings he had for a certain John Sheppard. He was pretty sure he had one hell of a crush on his CO. And unless Sheppard's response on the planet was purely fueled by the drug he was under, he was confident that Sheppard returned his affections. Their professional relationship hadn't taken a hit, but their personal relationship, and any hope for one, had taken one hell of a hit.

_I need to do something,_ he thought. _Otherwise I'm going to sit here, all night, get no sleep, and not be very functional._ And _then_ someone would know something was up. So far he'd been very careful at keeping how much the experience was bothering him away from his job, away from others. It probably wasn't wise to keep everything bottled up inside, but it wasn't like he was going to be signing up to talk with Heightmeyer about it; she'd pull him off-duty so fast his head would spin and it would get around Atlantis that the military second-in-command was cracking under a mission gone pear-shaped. That was the last thing he needed at the moment. He needed to simply carry on with his life, as it had been, and hope nobody noticed he was falling apart at the seams.

With a sigh, he got up and rummaged around for some clean clothes. His ankle was still giving him some trouble, but Carson said that after another week or so he'd been ready to get back to full-duty, meaning off-world missions. He shuddered at the thought. Evan wasn't very sure what he was going to be like, stepping through the Stargate again. He'd taken some time after the Genii coup, when everyone had thought he was dead, but that had been because the rest of the city, including Sheppard, needed to reaffirm that he and his team were still living. This was different. This was Lorne pretending that he could hack it when he was drowning in it.

After a stop at the mess for a cup of coffee, he made his way to his office, curious about his paperwork situation. As usual, the amount on his in-tray was significantly more than his out-tray, but he was used to that. Sitting himself at his desk, he ignored the top folder. He knew what that was; it was the mission report from his previous mission that Elizabeth wanted as soon as possible. He would need to collaborate with Sheppard so that Elizabeth would get the general picture without most of the details. She really didn't need to know how Lorne had run for his life, dodging bullets, or how he'd begged his CO to either spare his life or end it, all while trying not to get raped. If that didn't get him daily sessions with Heightmeyer for the next month, he didn't know what would.

_It's a twisted world you live in,_ his mind supplied and he put the folder in his top desk drawer. He wasn't ready for that yet. Taking a sip of his coffee, he pulled another folder over to him and started reading. Ah, SG-4's latest report. That was sure to bring a smile to his face; they got into some non-threatening, but interesting, off-world activities. He settled back in his chair, prepared to be amazed.

* * *

"John?"

"Elizabeth," John said, standing in line for Pegasus-brand eggs and bacon in the cafeteria. "Good morning." He smiled at the cook, grabbed a banana and some coffee, and headed for his usual table.

"I need the written report from yours and Major Lorne's last mission," she said, not beating around the bush. She'd been trying to pin one of them down for days to get that report, but so far she'd been met with excuses and assurances that she'd "get it soon." She had a feeling that they weren't telling her something, weren't telling her a lot, actually. From the bags under Lorne's eyes whenever she saw him recently, it was her clue that he wasn't sleeping. Whether or not his last mission, and therefore Sheppard, was the cause, she wasn't sure but she needed to know. She did inot/i need the military second-in-command unable to execute his position if something happened to John or if the city was being attacked. And as their mutual friend, she needed to know what she could do to help them.

"That," John said softly. He set his tray down and then looked at her fully. "I need to talk to Lorne."

"I know," she said. In her personal opinion, this was like pulling teeth. "And he tells me he needs to talk to you, but, funny, neither of you have talked with each other yet." She raised her eyebrows. "Something happened on that planet John, that neither of you wants to talk about. At this point, I really don't care what's on that report, but it needs to be filed and you need to work this out." She gave him a hard look and then turned, walking away.

John looked at his breakfast and suddenly found himself with no appetite.

* * *

A few hours and a dozen reports later, Evan sat back in the chair, his coffee cup cold and forgotten on his desk. He still hadn't even so much as looked at the roughest outline of a report he'd given to appease Elizabeth, knowing that eventually he'd have to elaborate. But it was easier said than done.

_"Shep, please," he said, not above begging for either his life or ending it. "Please…" His voice cracked and a tear slid down his cheek._

Evan shook his head to get rid of the memory (nightmare, more like it), and leaned forward, elbows on his desk and cradling his head in his hands. A dull throbbing was taking up residence at the base of his skull, a headache from lack of sleep. He was angry with his body; he'd gone without sleep for longer than this. Then again, when the mission was over he'd slept for about thirteen or so hours straight. No such like in his current position. If he really thought about it, which he tried not to, he realized he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since he'd been drugged to the gills in Carson's infirmary. He hadn't really dreamed of anything, then. He'd just been _gone_.

He scrubbed at his forehead, not bothering to look up when he heard the chime on his door. "It's open," he called. Whoever it was came in and then shut the door behind them. When he looked up, the breath caught in his chest.

John Sheppard was standing in front of his desk, looking at him with concern and sympathy clearly written in his hazel eyes.

_Oh, shit,_ Evan thought and then pushed himself upright again. "Sorry it's a little cluttered in here." He was nervous, making small-talk with Sheppard because he knew what this was about. Elizabeth had gotten to John, told him to get that damn report finished. Which inevitably meant that he and Lorne would have to talk about what happened on the planet. Not talk about in the way they had when Evan had been laid up in the infirmary, but really italk/i about it. While there were some parts that he'd really well and truly like to forget, there were parts that he was wondering if they led to something different. Evan was wondering if maybe something good to come of this whole horrible ordeal or if he was truly going off his rocker.

"You should see my place," John said, hoping to ease the tenseness that had settled between the two of them. He could see Lorne was nervous. Hell, this wasn't going to be a cakewalk for him, either, and he hadn't been the one who'd been hunted like a deer. John tried not to look at the barely-there bruise still on Evan's cheekbone because that brought him to thoughts of how beautiful Evan's cheekbones looked which brought him invariably back to the sensation he could still _feel_ of his hands on Evan's back, the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. In his altered state, he had known what he wanted and hadn't been afraid to go after it. Such a strong inner desire shocked him. He'd known it was there, but he hadn't allowed himself to realize it was that strong.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and taut between them.

"You might have guessed it by now, but I'm here because Elizabeth wants her report," John said, looking at the front of Lorne's desk instead of the man behind it.

"That the only reason?" He wasn't sure where he was going with that question, but Evan was content to let it lead him into the unknown. Things couldn't get any more awkward than they already were between the two of them.

John bit his lip and waited until he caught Evan's eye. "No. It's not the only reason I'm here." He sighed and fidgeted. "We need to talk. About everything."

Evan mentally kicked himself for defying Murphy's Law; things were destined to get more awkward with that simple statement. He should know better than to tempt fate.

"Where do you want to start?" he asked, pulling the folder he'd ignored over in front of him.

"Can…Can we not worry about the damn report right now, Evan?" John's eyes were pleading against Evan's confusion, but Lorne shoved the folder back where it had been and moved forward to lean on his desk. "When I was drugged," he started and a smile came unbidden to his lips. How many of his reports here on Atlantis had started with those same lines before, under completely different context? He saw Lorne's expression go completely blank. "Sorry, just realized that those words are filed a lot." Evan relaxed minutely. "When I was under the influence I could see you and hear you, but it was like I wasn't in control anymore." John swallowed. Not being in control of his body had been the most difficult thing to bear, that and hurting his XO who really had no way to fight back. "It was like I was watching everything from my eyes, but I wasn't the one who was controlling what I did. It was…my…"

"Darker side," Evan supplied. He looked at John's nose instead of his hazel eyes. "Your eyes…they had this dead look in them. It was you, but it wasn't. It was like you were on autopilot and the only thing you wanted to do was either capture me or kill me. I wasn't sure which one it was until you started shooting and then it became kind of obvious." If there was a slight creep of hysteria into his voice, John pretended not to notice. They were both going to need daily sessions with Heightmeyer after this.

"That part of me liked it when you fought back," John said softly. "Gave me a challenge. And the part of me that was still…me…was rooting for you to give me a thorough ass-kicking, which, in all reality, you really couldn't because you were alone and without weapons."

Evan remembered the branch turned baseball bat/club. "Well, not completely, but I get your point." John rubbed his head, remembering just how much of a swing Lorne had. "I'm a soldier. I'm trained to handle violence." _But somewhere along the lines in Major School they forgot to teach you what to do when your CO has his hands up your shirt and is looking to unbuckle your belt and take you for a home run whether you like it or not._ However, he didn't say that. Not only was it unprofessional, but he was a little more tactful than that, especially because he was dealing with John and didn't want to hurt him anymore than this horrible ordeal already was.

"But they forget to teach you what to do when your CO starts groping you while under the influence," Sheppard supplied with a tiny, wry smile.

Evan wondered, not for the first time, if Sheppard was able to read minds. "Something like that, yeah."

John knew then it was time to come out, in more ways than one. He'd kept his secret for many years, and his secret crush on his XO quiet for months. He'd told himself it wouldn't be professional, that Lorne was straight, and that if he was caught it would mean a dishonorable discharge and Atlantis, the home he'd come to know, would be taken away from him. But he trusted Lorne, trusted the man with his life and hopefully, maybe one day (in an alternate universe or in his dreams) he'd trust the man with his heart. That probably wasn't going to happen, but if he wanted to put Evan on the path to getting better (and at least getting a full night's sleep because the man looked like he hadn't sleep in _days_) then he needed to say this.

"Evan," he said, waiting until he had Lorne's full attention and eye contact, "there is a reason that I went…there's a reason I started groping you."

Lorne could think of a couple reasons off the top of his dead, the drug being first and foremost, the second being a matter of control, but he pushed those thoughts away and gave John the benefit of an open mind.

"I like you, Evan." He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "I – I think I've liked you since I met you. And the drug, well, it was like being drunk in some ways, meaning that my inhibitions were down. And you were there, under me, and I just…I just wanted to touch." He looked at wide gray eyes. "I wanted to touch you the way that I've wanted to touch you for a long time." Evan hadn't said anything, so John plowed on. "It wasn't about control or about you submitting or any of that, but I wanted to touch you the way that I've been fantasizing about for so long." John had possibly dug himself his own grave and then end of career, but Evan needed to know the truth. He owed the other man that much, after beating the shit out of him and semi-attempting to rape him. John wasn't sure if he would have gone that far, but it was a safe bet to say that Evan's mind had taken him that far. Probably why the man couldn't sleep.

The room grew so quiet that a pin-drop would have shattered glass.

Evan soaked in everything that John had said. Everything. John had liked him from the moment he'd met him, had been harboring a secret crush on him for months, and had just wanted to touch him on the planet. Just wanted to feel the softness of his skin. John had already admitted to feeling guilty about the whole thing, so was this a way for him to escape with his honor relatively intact? Was he hoping to make things right by making Lorne believe that he liked him and that was the reason he'd been going to for his pants?

"It's okay, John," Evan said, forcing the words out of a choked throat. "I get that you don't…that it was a…you don't have to make things up…"

Sheppard cocked his head to the side and simply stared at his XO. Was the man really that thick? John had pretty much declared the fact that he'd fallen head over heels for his XO upon sight and Lorne was trying to tell him that he was full of shit?

"Evan," John said as evenly as he could, "I just told you that I've had a crush on you, fantasized about you since you got to Atlantis and you tell me that I'm lying to you? Lying to you why? To make you feel better? Yes, I feel guilty over this whole damn thing, but that doesn't mean that my feelings aren't true. I understand if you're straight, but I'd appreciate a little trust that I wouldn't do this type of thing to you, to your feelings." He stood up and went to lean on Evan's desk, his face inches from the other man's. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that I'm lying to you, that I haven't felt the way that I feel for you since the moment I met you."

Lorne took a look in Sheppard's hazel eyes and saw that the man was deadly serious. It felt as though his stomach had left its usual spot and taken up residence somewhere in his lower region, possibly around his kneecaps. Evan had acknowledged his attraction to John Sheppard a while ago, but had always kept it in the back of his mind, out of the way of his professional life and based around the fact that Sheppard was his CO and the belief, up until a few moments ago, that the man was straight. Evan's life was unraveling and he was confused as hell, but he knew that, if given the chance, what was invariably between him and Sheppard could become something more. But the nightmares and the mission from hell and the threat of rape and mistrust rattled around his head and he couldn't shake them, not at the moment.

After a long minute of intense silence, John stood up and heaved a sigh. He wasn't sure if it was a rejection, or maybe Lorne was still a little shell-shocked, but he didn't want to push the other man. And that damn report would have to wait yet another day. Because he had nothing left to say, he turned to leave.

The only thing Evan had the presence of mind to tell John before Sheppard walked out the door was, "I'm not straight." John looked back at him with a slightly hopeful expression but otherwise walked out. Evan vaguely wondered if he should have maybe said something but with the whirlwind his mind was in, he was amazed he got that much out. In the back of the whirlwind, he was hoping that the best thing in his life hadn't just walked out the door before he'd had a chance to realize it.

* * *

John leaned against the railing on the balcony in the control tower, looking at the last rays of the sun on the water. The ocean waves had a calming effect on him, but he was still nearly high on adrenaline from his earlier conversation with Lorne. He was hoping to make this right, not out of some twisted sense of honor, but because Evan meant something to him, something more than just a good XO and he couldn't help but feel as though the odds weren't in his favor. Certainly Evan's soft omission of, "I'm not straight" had helped, but it really hadn't given away any of what the other man was thinking. Part of John was waiting for the word to come down that he was being shipped back to Earth, permanently, that he would spent time in Leavenworth and that, worst of all, Lorne would hate him.

_I wish he'd never agreed to that test,_ he thought savagely. If none of it had happened, he and Lorne would be on a much better road and maybe, just maybe, John could have professed his feelings in a much better way, without the lingering memories of an impending non-consensual groping hanging over the pair of them. _Wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't agreed to that damn test._ But the blame couldn't lay completely on Lorne. John had left it up to him, and any XO would want to look strong and competent in front of his CO and an alien ruler. Ironically, Atlantis wasn't even trading with them because of what the situation that he and Evan had been through. It wasn't fair, but Elizabeth had known instinctively when they'd come back that something wasn't right. She had a good intuition.

"John?"

_Speak of the woman and she shows up,_ John thought and looked over his shoulder. "Hey." He wasn't surprised when she joined him at the railing. "I don't have your report." Might as well get the bad news out of the way.

"I figured that," she said. Twilight over the ocean was beautiful, the waters calming even further as night was settling. "I take it your conversation with Evan was not pleasant?"

John figured she wasn't a diplomat for nothing. "It was interesting." He glanced over at her and saw that she was looking steadfastly out at the ocean. He could trust Elizabeth, that he knew. Still, it was hard because he'd kept the secret so long it was almost like second nature. When he really put serious thought to it, he realized that the whole of Atlantis probably wouldn't care that he was gay. "I pretty much told him I was in love with him. And had been since I'd met him."

Elizabeth made a humming noise and smiled. "How did that go over?"

"Not sure." John's voice had an edge of bitterness to it.

"Well," she said, "let him know that you want to be there for him. He did return the feeling, right?" John said nothing and the silence started to stretch again. "Let him know that you want to be there for him, help him through the hard time that you two are still going through." He looked over at her, shock on his features. "I might not know what exactly happened on that planet but I have a pretty good guess. Just let him know that you care and, if he returns your feelings…you never know what might happen." She smiled tenderly. "Teyla and I didn't."

John whipped his head around to stare at her openly. Elizabeth and Teyla? He'd have never guessed. The pair of them kept their professional life and their private one so completely separated that only if you were looking extremely closely you would see that some of the touches lingered, and the looks were filled with promise. John had been completely oblivious.

"Thanks," he said after a moment.

Elizabeth smiled once more and patted his arm. "Try and get some sleep, John." She turned to go. "I still want that report."

"I know." But John had other things, more important things than back paperwork on his mind. Namely, Evan Lorne.

* * *

Evan had gone back to his quarters after his conversation with John, hoping that the sense of familiarity would help him settle. He was sorely mistaken. There was no task he could start to do, not even folding his clean laundry that had been stacked on the dresser, that would allow him to escape from the constant circle in his head: John, the mission, the touching, John, and every other bad thought about why something of this nature wouldn't ever work out between the two of them. He had the feeling that no matter what he decided (and he supposed it was up to him, now) that John would be there for him, to support him. John had risked his career coming out to Evan, but hadn't Evan risked his own in return, coming out to John? They both knew about each other and Evan was fighting the feeling in his chest that, if he allowed himself to feel the way he wanted to, that he could be very, very happy. The problem was, every time that he pictured John in his mind the Sheppard that he knew turned into the knife-wielding one, hell-bent on killing him. How could he be with a man that his mind still regarded as dangerous? How could Evan learn to trust the man that, when he faced the reality of it, he loved deep inside? He didn't have an answer for that and one wasn't forthcoming, either.

A glance at his bed and the memory of his most current nightmare drove the idea of sleep right out of his mind. A look at his sketchbook brought the familiar itch to his palms to put pencil to paper and draw, but the star-studded sky and lit towers of Atlantis didn't hold enough inspiration and draw for him. Namely, it wouldn't serve as the distraction he needed.

_I need sleep..._ he thought and his body echoed the sentiment. But it was lonely. He felt alone and lonely, like he was completely on his own against the world. It was the same feeling he'd had back on the planet and he hated it, backing up a step away from the bed. _I can't stay here..._ Not even realizing it was well past midnight, he left his room and let himself go on autopilot, wandering the hallways. He passed his office, and John's, and found himself in a corridor of living quarters. He knew instinctively that the door was John's. Before he had a chance to rethink himself, he waved his hand over the chime.

Moments later a sleep-rumpled John Sheppard opened the door, quite surprised to see Evan Lorne standing in the hallway in front of him. John noticed the skittish look in Lorne's eyes and forced himself more awake than he really felt.

"I can't sleep," Evan said.

_That's obvious,_ John thought, but he didn't say it. Instead, he said hesitantly, "Do you want to come in?"

Evan looked everywhere but at John and then nodded. Sheppard stood aside and let him enter, allowed the door to slide shut and then leaned against it. Evan looked more than a little lost, surrounded by John's personal space, and finally looked at Sheppard.

"I haven't slept well since…" Evan shrugged and wrapped his arms around his middle. Why was it so hard, in the personal space of the man that loved him, and that he was pretty sure he loved in return (he had the feeling that both he and John weren't ones for casual sex) and couldn't seem to form a coherent thought or sentence about what he wanted and what he needed. "I just..I haven't slept well."

"I'm here for you, Evan," John said. If Evan needed reassurance, whether from a friend or from someone who meant possibly more than friendship, then he would give it. Whatever Evan needed, he would give it.

"I know," he said. He walked to John and then decided to throw himself headlong into something he knew was right. "Hold me?" He was asking the very man that he was having nightmares of - _No! No, this John is not the John that attacked you. That John was someone else, someone under a drug and with no conscience. This John, this John Sheppard, real and alive before you, is the man that you know, have known. Trust him._ Trust. That was the big word. And Evan trusted John to have his back in a fight, but also, to take care of him when he needed it.

John didn't say anything, he simply opened his arms. Evan moved into the embrace, tucking his head beneath John's chin and wrapping his arms around Sheppard's waist. John wrapped his arms around Evan, rubbing circles on his lower back, careful to stay on the fabric. And if they happened to fall asleep, in each other's arms standing up, and eventually wound up on the floor, still together, then it would be all right. Even though their backs would be protesting in the morning, it would be all right because Evan would sleep all the way through the night, without any issues, because he trusted John enough to keep away the demons, demons who were shameless killers borrowing a pair of beautiful hazel eyes, fly-away hair, and a sexy grin. But the demon in Evan's mind was nothing compared with the angel in whose arms he rested, safe and secure.


End file.
